too crowded for the likes of me

hi there. i’ve been writing a lot.  today i sit on my front porch and smell honeysuckle.  there’s a cardinal up there in the tree and he’s singing red.  I’m not sure how long this idea of writing will loom in front of me seductive like a siren song, but it ain’t going away.  i

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one cure for brokenness

when something is broken, you throw it out.  or you fix it.  or you imagine you’ll fix it and it sits, untouched, for a long time until you throw it out. relating to jesus is not the process of discerning your brokenness and then getting down to the business of fixing yourself up with god’s

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this end up

it is better to go to a house of mourning than to go to a house of feasting, for death is the destiny of every man; the living should take this to heart. — ecc. 7:2 there is a logic that doesn’t make sense.  it’s the sacrifice and the embracing of the end of our

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flomach stew

my father exhorted me to find the spiritual side of puking.  i had to hang up because he started to make me nauseas.  we’ve been a little sick around here. it has been staggering outside.  the blue blinds and the green dizzies.  the sun highlighting everything.  it’s too much for a sick one.  the weak

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expensive days

Some days find me in the kitchen all day long.  Breakfast table set like the dinner table and everyone gathered around. Cooking must be therapeutic or a retreat, because why else would i do it?  I retreat.  I look for mental help.  Why does rising dough dusted with flour soothe?  Why does the soup bubbling

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the power of your sister’s shoes

eleanor has become obsessed with a pair of shoes. in her mind, they fit. i’ve been helping her in and out of these, feeling like i could take on something larger than myself. i can still make believe my way into reality, right? the determination involved in doing what we haven’t yet achieved is tiresome. 

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learning wonder

saturday night ended the faith and writing festival. i sat in vespers so full. i worshiped with poets and i was a burning star in my wooden chair. i am thankful. calvin college feeds the hungry every other year. this year they fed the near starving. i cried most days for the truth and the

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unexpected

easter is sixteen days away. easter gets the short end of the holiday stick in my life.  or at least, it has. christmas and easter were jesus-less for me growing up.  christmas has each year steady become full.  there is something in the early, dark that shuts the cold out and the heat and the

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and the winner is…

the frost on the old car in front is a dream. the grass is holding it too. frost is wrapping up its time with us. can winter and quick be in the same sentence? this year, somehow, they are. for me. “see the sun shining?” my six year old boy asks after creeping down the

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seasonal employee

spring is making some promises.  i know she’ll make good on them, but when the coat gets pulled close and the scarf still wraps around, you have to wonder. change.  it’s given when it comes and then it’s all we have.  but before that point we construct it ourselves.  or try to. too soon is

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